Logs:Bakers, Cooks, Work and Effort
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| RL Date: 4 February, 2015 |
| Who: H'vier, Lycinea |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: H'vier takes Lycinea to question the baker apprentices about their craft. They talk and some things become clear. |
| Where: Keroon Hold |
| When: Day 3, Month 13, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Giorda/Mentions, Tahvra/Mentions, Tayre/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions, Z'riah/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
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| She could've asked Z'riah to take her, certainly, but she didn't. She asked H'vier. The morning was spent at Keroon, wandering through the Hold, finding baker apprentices to pester. The questions she chooses suggests Lycinea knows what she's looking to find out was certainly helped by her trip to healer. This trip is unofficial though. This one, the apprentices look at her skeptically, since so many of the ones she speaks to are younger than herself. Something the last one says (with a sneer) makes Lya come and wrap her arm around H'vier's. "Can we go outside somewhere?" It's requested quietly and with a tug. Something has changed in her mood, but it's not until they're out through the courtyard and in the wide open that the blonde lets out a breath that she can't have been holding since, but might as well have been. H'vier does his best to stay back and not involve himself with anything in particular. He's an escort and he might not even be listening too closely. That would help him not step in when brats are bratty to Lya, at least. When she comes to him, though, he eyes the apprentice she last spoke to before nodding and letting her guide them outside. "That bad?" "He said I should just be a cook, at my age." Arguably, that doesn't sound that bad, but Lya looks rather dejected about the prospect. "I don't want to be just a cook." Her expression is pathetic as she looks up at H'vier as if he should tell her she doesn't have to be, or that she can be anything she wants to be. Look at that pouty lip! "Then don't be just a cook. You can't let some little brat get you down. Do what you need to do and then shove it in his face once you're done." H'vier says this all so casually that it's probably meant to be more figurative than anything. But this is H'vier so one might have to wonder. The blonde looks at him a moment longer and then sighs in a wistful sort of way. "I'm beginning to think apprenticing isn't for me after all. But I'd like to do something I didn't hate. And I hate being loaned out to anyone and everyone for whatever task is on hand. Do you know they have me changing the sheets after flights sometimes?" Lycinea gives H'vier a truly pitiable look. "I don't really want to move away from home either. Not that this isn't nice, but... it's too much open space." She makes gesture to the rolling hills and then seeks to wrap her arm back around his, as if his hulking presence might help make the world feel smaller, more like the tunnels of home. "Is baking what you'd want to do if you could do anything you wanted?" H'vier wonders out loud, tilting his head to look down at the blonde on his arm. There's the implication for her to say what that might be if it isn't baking. "I don't think so," Lya answers with a sigh, "but how am I supposed to know when I haven't done it?" She looks out across the fields and then tightens her grip, tipping her head to lean against his arm. "I don't know what I'd want to do if I could do anything I wanted. I can't do anything, and I don't know what I want, so it's doubly hard to tell what I'd do if I could do anything I wanted." Which might only be logic in Lya Land. "Then now's probably not the right time to make decisions about the rest of your future. I'm not saying you always know what you're meant to do before you do it. But you should have some idea of what would make you happy before you make any hard decisions." H'vier, giver of wisdom. Lycinea sighs. He makes her work so hard! She chews her lower lip. "Well, I like the new clothes you've gotten for me, but I don't think I'm talented enough to make clothes. My stitches are barely passable." Even with all of Telavi's patience. The blonde purses her lips. "And I like the things Tela's been teaching me about hair, and what I've been learning about cosmetics, but I definitely don't want to go work for some stuffy Lady," she makes that sound awful, "in some Hold somewhere. "I like kids. I'm not sure I wouldn't kill them if I had sole responsibility for them or if I had to be with them all day everyday." Stay at home mom is out! "And I like history. A lot. I read." This is admitted as if it were a scandalous secret. "But I don't think you can do anything with knowing about history unless you're a harper and I don't think I ought to apprentice that." "Why shouldn't you apprentice as a harper?" H'vier is curious. Probably especially considering it seems like the only thing she hasn't already discounted entirely for some lame reason or another. "Oh, because I'd never pass the exams. Or be able to get any of the basic instrumentation classes or any of that. I like just the history part and you can't be an apprentice harper without liking more than just the one part. Journeymen... well, that's different I guess." Lycinea sighs. "I don't think many people enter a craft as a Journeyman. Not even if they have obscene amounts of marks to spare." "Don't be silly. You don't have to like that stuff. You just have to do it. I promise you that not all apprentices like instruments and singing. And fewer probably like history." H'vier seems a little amused. Poor Lycinea. "It sounds to me like you're making excuses more than anything." "I am not," Lya protests looking up at the bronzerider with surprise. "I'm rubbish at all of it. Give me a gitar and plug your ears and I'll prove it." Because that's totally a great use of marks. "Aren't there things that you're just bad at and so you don't do them?" "I didn't mean you had to be good at it, either," H'vier points out like this should be obvious. "Of course there are things I'm bad at. I'm bad at having friends. But I'm trying, aren't I?" He tilts his head to look down at her as though he's made a great argument. But then he adds, "I can't sing worth a damn, either." "Do you sing anyway, for your kids?" Lya asks, curious. "Sometimes. Humming more than singing, I suppose. But Tahvra likes to sing and she doesn't know how bad I am at it yet." The thought makes H'vier smile for a moment before it fades into something else and then nothing. "Have you ever been to the races?" he asks, maybe not so much trying to change the subject as just thinking of the question. "No," Lya can answer that simply enough, but it doesn't distract her curiosity, "What else are you bad at, besides singing and friendship?" "I don't know," says H'vier. It's less dismissive than it is thoughtful. "I'm good at the things I need to be good at," except for maybe some authority issues? "I don't think about what I'm not good at very often." That evidently will not satisfy the blonde as she gives a tug on his arm, now wanting to walk on, now that she's gotten her breath. "Are you good at math? Runner riding? Memorization? Lying?" There's the briefest pause and then, "Poetry?" This carries an impish smile and look up through her lashes at him. "Pretty good at math. Memorization. Never had much need for runners but I wasn't horrible when I had to use them." H'vier only laughs about poetry but will admit, "I'm not a bad liar. Not usually." "When are you a bad liar? Like, what kinds of situations? Or what makes you a bad liar?" Lycinea isn't judging his liar-ness, that would make her a hypocrite as well as a liar. She's merely curious and the evolution of her question is trying to cover all the angles, even as the variations on it come to her. "Sex makes me... a less good liar." But H'vier already assumes she's not going to want to hear more about that. "Are you good at math? Writing? If you can't find anything else, I could probably put you to work, too." But apparently she does? Lya's nose is wrinkled as she looks up at him. "What do you mean sex makes you a less good liar? Given her inexperience, she probably can't imagine. "I'm shit at math," which might make it good that she doesn't have much in the way of marks to manage. "Writing... Well, I can, but not like a Harper. I haven't had much need to write since I finished my Harper lessons." Turns ago now. Maybe it wasn't so much assuming Lya wouldn't want to talk about it as much as it was H'vier not wanting to talk about how boobs make him stupid. "I don't think as clearly." He'll just leave it at that. "Writing is useful. Perhaps you should practice more." "Weird," says the girl who's probably never had so much as a twitch of lust to the matter of clarity of thinking as its impacted by anatomy, but at least she moves on after that. "Should I? It's never seemed particularly useful in my life. I don't have to do reports like you do or anything. What should I write about?" It's a thoughtful question, like she might actually be taking his suggestion to heart. Scary. H'vier snorts at her answer. "I thought the whole point was that you weren't particularly satisfied with your life. You can't expect to find something more satisfying if you aren't willing to put in some work, Lya. Unless you're gonna go Impressing a gold dragon." He clearly thinks very highly of these women. "And then you'll still have to learn how to write better." "Ugh, no, thank you. The girls who dream about weyrwomanhood have to be out of their minds." Lya gives him a meaningful look - it might explain H'vier's taste in women. "So what should I write about?" She asks again. "It's not like my life is very interesting." "I don't care what you write about. Copy other shit down. Make up stories or something." H'vier obviously would have been a harper and a great teacher in another life. "What do you even consider interesting in a life?" "I didn't say you had to care what I wrote about," Lya answers him as if scolding, and then sighing, "I was asking for your suggestions. Why do you always have to be so... so..." Then she gestures to him, all of him. Just before leaning her cheek against his arm in a way that might seem quite fond of the all of him that she just gestured to, quite contrary to her sentiment. "I don't know. I guess I'm not very interested by many things. I like history," but she's said that before, "But I shouldn't like to make it, only read about it." She considers. "I suppose I find talking to people interesting. Like you. Like other people. And I like finding out what makes them tick, and what they do in different situations. Only, I don't suppose that's very useful outside of mindhealing, and I don't want to be a mindhealer. I'm awfully insensitive." Has he noticed? "So basically you'd be happiest as an old, shriveled up auntie." There's a teasing quality in H'vier's voice, just in case the teasing isn't obvious enough already. "The good news is that you'll get there. One day. In the mean time, however..." The bronzerider doesn't have any bright ideas. Sure, he'd suggested he could put her to work. But it's probably nothing she'd find interesting. Since she doesn't like work and all. Lya makes a face at him, lifting her head from his arm, but then something must occur to her because she brightens, grinning up at H'vier, "Well," she says wistfully, "Auntie Lya does have an awfully nice ring to it. Even if I'll never actually be anyone's aunt. I don't suppose that's really a job requirement for aunties." Then she shakes her head, "But no. You should hear how those aunties complain. This hurts, and that aches, and they can't see the plies of the yarn unless they squint 'just so.' Ugh. No thanks. I'll take staying young forever even if I have to be miserable in my job. I'd rather complain about my job than my body," but really, does it have to be just one? "I don't actually mind doing some work. I do believe in earning my keep. Only, I can't see as how they've ever been especially good to me, so I don't see why I have to be especially good about my job. It's tit for tat. And there ain't much tat." She gives H'vier a meaningful look, but she does seem to be telling him her feelings earnestly. "I don't think the help are paid well enough for the work we do. Not that I think the Weyr has extra marks to spare, but why should a crafter get paid more when our work is more necessary? Just because we don't have to be highly trained to do it?" She sighs in a way that suggests she's stepped off the mental soap box. "You can be an aunt to Tavi and Tayre, if you want. Don't even have to be old and aching for that." H'vier continues to listen as she talks, a thoughtfulness about him even when he looks down at her on his arm. "You work is more necessary, for the most part, it's true. But there are more unskilled people than there aren't, so you're also easy to replace with someone more willing to do the work. You have more room to bitch and moan when you're especially good at what you do." There's only a moment or so before the bronzerider adds, "I think you'd make a good assistant to Giorda, for what it's worth. You seem to enjoy... delegating." It's a better description for 'bossing people around.' "Are you sure I'm the kind of person you want influencing your kids?" Lya looks at H'vier, but then again, H'vier is their father, so maybe Lya is a step up? She moves on. Without even laughing. "You make a good point. Maybe I should get to be very good at something so I can bitch and moan and it won't matter as much." She looks truly wistful for this idea. "Oh, but I bet getting really good at something takes a lot of effort," which is practically the same thing as work. Her nose wrinkles up. "I don't like delegating. I don't like being in charge of things that matter. And Giorda would never have me anyway. I think she'd take a drudge before she'd take me." And drudges are well known for their intelligence. "I thought you said you didn't mind doing some work. But I'm sure Giorda would take some convincing to give you a try." Where convincing probably means being paid off by H'vier himself. But he won't say that out loud. "You'll have to decide on something eventually, anyway. Unless you're going to go join a trader caravan. But I wouldn't recommend it." "Ugh, nothankyou, all this open sky is revolting. Give me the tunnels of home any day." Lya makes a face for the very thought. "Have you been part of a trader caravan?" She asks curiously, casting a side-glance up at the rider. "And I don't mind doing some work. I mind doing a lot of work." See the difference? She does at any rate. "Sort of," is H'vier's answer about being part of a caravan. "Enough to know that it wouldn't be a very good fit for you." And because he's not going to talk about that anymore, he asks her, "Do you like runners?" Lya stops suddenly, jerking at his arm as she does so, though not intentionally. "Really?" Her brows are up in full-fledged interest. Probably, it has nothing to do with the fact that he doesn't want to talk about it. Probably. If he doesn't stop, she'll let herself be pulled along, saying, "They're fine, I suppose. I can't ride. And I definitely don't like them enough to clean up their shit, but then I'm not sure I could ever like anything enough to clean up its shit." Lya, best future mom ever! H'vier only smiles for a moment at her interest as they stop, but it doesn't earn her any answers. "I guess that means going to see the racers might as well wait until I don't have to drag you along with me. Are you ready to head back to the Weyr now?" "Yeah. I've learned everything I need to here." Lya can say this decisively. "Do we have to walk all the way back to Reisoth?" She might as well be Tavi in that moment, her legs might not carry her that long. Really. The bronzerider eyes Lya as though he's not sure if she's joking or not. "We could run?" he suggests, knowing full well that's not what she means. "You're not asking me to carry you, are you?" "I don't run. And no, I wanted to know if there was somewhere closer he could land and pick us up." Lya gives all that green (no doubt, farmed land that anyone would be thrilled to have a dragon land on) a suggestive look. Make Reisoth do all the work! H'vier is such a good and upstanding man that this thought must not have even occurred to him. "No. He's where he needs to be. It'll be good for you to walk. He's not even that far." Lya sighs and lets a little more of her weight hang on H'vier's arm as if it might help her to bear the news with something like grace. "Lead on," she instructs. "I'll follow." On his arm. Not quite like dead weight, but definitely dragging her feet until she gets distracted or bored of the game. |
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